


There Are Times When I Miss The Light, But I'm Not Afraid of the Dark.

by immortal_enemies



Category: The Dark Artifices Series - Cassandra Clare, The Shadowhunter Chronicles - Cassandra Clare, The Wicked Powers Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Angst, Kinda, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-15
Updated: 2020-12-15
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:01:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28095834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/immortal_enemies/pseuds/immortal_enemies
Summary: The obsessive ticking of the clock had been the only thing Kit could hear for so long, he was sure that for the rest of his life he would hear its echo in his mind.He was staring at the page blankly.Kit was never a reader.
Kudos: 13





	There Are Times When I Miss The Light, But I'm Not Afraid of the Dark.

The obsessive ticking of the clock had been the only thing Kit could hear for so long, he was sure that for the rest of his life he would hear its echo in his mind.

He was staring at the page blankly.

Kit was never a reader.

Now, not being a reader and living with Tessa Grey created a small problem. In the beginning, he pretended to like reading, but that was, for the most part, out of fear that Tessa wouldn’t want him anymore, and he would be all on his own once again.

Now, not liking reading didn’t mean that he didn’t like stories. He quite enjoyed them, though that mostly depended on the storyteller.

He preferred movies for this reason. When he was watching a movie, it grabbed his attention with loud noises, thrilling visuals, and by _showing_ him the story, not leaving him to imagine.

He had an active imagination, just not one that was suited for the quiet stillness that came with sitting and focusing on a book for several hours at a time.

If he ever read, he would inevitably stare blankly at the word-filled page and drift into his imagination.

His little world was something he kept to himself, mainly because telling anyone about it would lead to telling them how unhealthily he wished it was true.

How he often wished he could close his eyes and fall into the fragile world he crafted for himself, staying there until the ugly reality he was truly apart of was merely a memory, simply a nightmare he was finally awoken from, finally saved after screaming for help, his voice no longer muffled by the water he felt as if he were drowning in.

Every day he would slip into his secluded lands, to a world where demons didn’t exist and the end of the world wasn’t possibly the day he woke up.

A world where he would walk down a cobblestone road in the late morning, window shopping and conversing with whoever happened to cross his path that day, sipping hot coffee and laughing as his new friend said something he found amusing. 

A world where he wasn’t being hunted; where it never felt like he was being watched in his sleep.

A world where all of his smiles were natural, not at all forced.

A world that wasn’t this one. A world that made this one seem far away, not even a thought.

He was there now.

Walking, talking, and laughing, no scars that contained bad memories. No runes etched into his skin to remind him he was merely a pawn in a game to defeat the dark.

His reality sounded like a child’s imagination.

And his imagination sounded like a child’s reality.

Everything was off-kilter, and he loathed the world he truly lived in.

He wanted to be _normal_.

He wanted to _care_.

He wanted to be someone worth loving.

Someone who _believed_ they were worth loving.

Someone who people didn’t feel an obligation to.

Maybe one day he would be.

...

But that day was too far away to see.

That day was nothing more than an empty dream he would whisper into the wind, watching helplessly as it disappeared, leaving him alone once again, to fight the dark.

One day he would escape himself.

One day he would be swept away in his knight in shining armor.

Whoever that might be.

They would find a version of himself who was worth it.

But for now, he would stay in his world, listening to the clock. Making it apart of his soul.

Because it was still his life, and he wanted to make it one worth living.

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, so this one wasn't very good, but I wrote it in like, a day so what is there to expect, really? 😂😂😂  
> Anyways, I hope you enjoyed!!


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